Stoop

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Pumpkin the stray eats
the last crumbs of cat food
from the concrete
and Here Comes the Sun
comes on inside
as I think about how it feels
when I rest my face
against your shoulder
how you asked earlier
why I would feed even crumbs
to a wolf in sheep’s clothing
why I would stoop
to its level when mercy
is moving on
and how your questions are never
swords or bullets
I have to duck or dodge
How all you ask of me
is that I be myself
sit on your stoop
while you make pancakes
and strawberry compote
just like you promised you would
when I said I was coming

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